The Tempest Has Sunshine for Hair
by deadbeatdragon
Summary: He thinks everything about her is too loud -but- He'll always act the fool for her when she's tucked this safely in his arms -then weirdly- Her nostrils puke out strawberry milkshake -and sadly- Nothing is as broken as an empty heart. Farewell drabbles for my four main ships. Rolu. Gralu. Sticy. Nalu. T for language.
1. Rogue: Misery is the Easy Way Out

**MISERY IS THE EASY WAY OUT OF THE STORM**

* * *

She comes in like the storm. The familiarly soft tinkle of the bell above the front door is thunder as she passes through. Her spun-sunshine hair is ironically drenched lack-luster by heavy rain and trailing droplets of its own. Her footsteps on the wooden floor echo across the room, but as loud as they are, she already has everybody's rapt attention. She's got all these eyes on her that she completely ignores as she plops loudly onto a bar stool. She orders after a puff of air that's all hot and bothered.

"Beer, flat. And keep a barrel on standby."

He thinks everything about her is too loud. His ears have been on edge already with the sudden storm but another one comes right at him in the form of a small hot blonde number. He instantly regrets covering for Sting on this day of all days. He rolls his eyes as she waves for his attention (like she hasn't had enough of that already).

"Hello? Yoo-hoo~ Paying customer over here!"

She bristles as he plops down the glass he was wiping down with a start. Her spidery senses are whispering into her ear a little tall of hatred and misery coming from this bartender. She narrows her eyes in annoyance as he slowly turns around to face her. She doesn't miss out on the irritated sigh he lets out as he appraises her. Her arms evidently move to defense and cross. Her efforts are put into turning her chocolate eyes into steel. She effectively decides taht won't ignore this atmosphere, she's going to make it her bitch. After all, instant dislike begets itself, tenfold.

"Airbud Light okay with you?"

"The name's a bit redundant but I can swallow it."

"A simple yes would have been enough."

"What can I say, I like to waste my breath."

"Suit yourself."

"I will, thank you."

He passes her the glass slowly because he only knows one thing, the pace agonizes her. He scrutinizes her, and he's done this enough times to be able to will his one good eye to perfectly articulate his doubt and judgement at her character (what little he knows of it anyway). As always, there is a tiny bit of conscience (which is oddly personified by his cat, Frosch) at the back of his head that warns him against this toe-to-toe with this perfect stranger. But there is something in the glint of her warm eyes and puckered lips (all signs that point to trying too hard) that calls out to him. The voice tells him not so delicately, _Act like a fucking child with me._

"Since we've got a good half hour before you pass that drink to me, why don't I cut right to the chase. What the fuck is your problem with me?"

She says it with as much brute force she can muster. She was never really good at purposely being mean but previous events, the stupid storm and his equally stupid smug face have forced her hand. She silently seethes as the glass plops before her and he remains stoically silent. One of her rules for living has always been to find the rainbow hidden in everybody's eyes. But the one red eye he lets her see into tells her discretely, _There's still a storm raging in here._

"I'm sorry?"

He knows she knows that he heard her just fine and that he won't apologize for anything. He perks up in delight when she visibly stiffens. He thinks, as a light smirk plays at the corners of his lips, she is the image of what a wound up rabid bunny would look like. It is with force that he shuts down the thought that she might look a little cute like that before it starts to poison him. _Too late._

"Oh no. Hell no. You are not going to get away with ignorance on this. You don't know who you're messing with."

"I'm sorry?"

"Stop! Stop with the same one word answers that - by mere chance only - seem to fit in the context."

"I'm sorry."

"Wow, bravo! Pat yourself on the back for that one! You think you're some smart piece of shit, don't you? Well I'll have you know that I've kicked ass fleshier and meatier than yours so if I were you, I'd watch that behind and that smart ass mouth!"

"I'm sorry!"

 _You will not smile at how smart that actually was._ She wills herself to be frustrated at it, but can only hollowly express it in a rehearsed groan. She slams both hands on the bar for added emphasis. Despite her efforts, she knows he sees her smiling eyes and must think that she's at least mildly impressed with him. But the little eyefuck they do instead of talk is enough to make her feel uncomfortable. She clamors for anything to change the subject; a sinkhole, a streak of lightning striking down on his arrogant pretty face - anything at all. She settles on his name tag.

"What kind of name is Rogue anyway?"

 _You do not think she's funny - ha! Funny-looking more like._ He searches her face desperately for any discrepancy, any flaw at all that he can isolate and focus his shallow hatred on before it slips away from him; any bit of asymmetry, an eyelash on the cheek, a stray booger on the upper lip - he'll take literally anything. He breathes out a little heavier through the nose, which is basically noiseless (but dangerous) laughter for him. And when he catches her eye, he knows he's screwed beyond redemption. But he can't shake off this tingling feeling that maybe it'd all be worth something in the end.

"The kind that fits shady people working in shady bars talking to other shady people, perfectly."

 _You cannot acknowledge that cute little thing he did instead of laugh, you just can't._ She refuses to embrace the growing feeling the maybe she's attracted to him (and to some lesser extent, he to her). But then she stares a little too deep into the honesty in his eye and humility in the fleeting smile he sends her. She internally melts. The reservoir has broken down and the crash of feelings, goosepimples and an innate impulse to giggle uncontrollably roars at her ears. She has to physically shake herself out of her mind and reacquaint herself to the conversation she started in the first place.

"I don't think you're shady!"

"I think it's shady that you don't think so."

"But really, what is shady beyond the context of trees?"

"Shady is who you become when misery is all you have left."

"We don't have the same dictionary then, because the only thing mine says is something about trees."

"I guess I need to read from your dictionary more often."

He hates himself a little - and her a little more - for how he slides so tragically into conversation with her. He offers her a smile he hasn't given anyone in ages too simply - without putting up enough of a fight. So he takes a random glass (he barely registers the slurred 'Hey!' that follows) and focuses all his energy in wiping off every bit of its imaginary dirt. Because Frosch be damned before he starts falling for the tricks of another blonde bimbo.

"You clam up very easily. Do you not want yourself to be happy?"

She hates herself for not biting down hard enough on her tongue when the words stumble out of her. It is what she thinks, she won't deny that, but the stony atmosphere that follows makes her instantly regret. She curses under her breath for the questions she could never leave unsatisfied. Maybe it's all because she knows she can't answer them on her own and she so desperately craves answers.

"Not really. It's more of, I don't know who I would be if I were happy."

He hates that he gives her an honest answer. But he's mostly confused why he seems to instantly trust her with the deeply fucked up masochism that dominates the narrative of his self-perception. And he'll go on the record (albeit reluctantly), that a part of him is a little excited for what all these impulses strung together and bursting out of him in word farts of truth might lead up to. Everything spins in his head, and he feels that he's been holding out on himself for this moment precisely. Because fuck, she's touching his hand and he's got to put down the glass before he drops it.

"You won't believe me because it's been said too many times, but I understand. Misery is so easy to slip into."

"What do you really know about misery, Sunshine Barbie?"

"I know how to get out of it."

"That's bullshi-"

"It might be. It might be just bullshit in the end, but doesn't a part of you at least ache to try?"

"Frosch be damned - I mean…fuck - not that I mean _fuck_ but…okay, yes."

"Well then, you're in luck because I just so happen to be free for dinner tomorrow at that Italian place next door. We'll start making happy from there. Oh and my name's not Sunshine Barbie by the way, it's Lucy and it's been an absolute pleasure."

* * *

WARNING!AUTHOR'S NOTE AHEAD!READ AT THE RISK OF BOREDOM!

First the technicals, I do not own Fairy Tail and (insert all the applicable disclaimer phrases here). Alright, let's get down to it!

Hai. I'm a little shit who never updates and leaves half-baked ideas for the rest of the internet to point and snicker at. So as the ultimate penance, here's a complete set of drabbles. I start off with Rolu (sorry if it wasn't specified on the character list, that four character limit is a bitch). I fell in love with the idea of Lucy as Miss Sunshine and Rogue as Mister Misery, a Postercouple for functioning dysfunction.

But I digress terribly. If you pay attention to this at all please note that I'm not updating or publishing any stories from this account anymore. I don't like how the content I create here make me inwardly cringe and are really just thoughtless writing (that's not fair for you as a reader and me as an aspiring writer). Frankly, this is all for cleansing some bad juju out of me and looking to brighter and bigger things. From a new account (one I haven't a name for yet) I'll explore other fandoms and writing techniques.

At the end of it all, I just hope you enjoy this little drabble whoever you are. If this makes you smile, I'll consider it a victory because by golly gee! you look radiant and glittering when you do, and as a present to the rest of the universe, please find reasons to smile more everyday.

You've reached the end of this note and I can't thank you enough for doing just that, they'll be one more to anticipate at the end of this collection. Tah till then!


	2. Gray: Some Things Last Longer

**SOME THINGS LAST LONGER THAN YOU**

* * *

The thin line between love and hate is so easily crossed and voyaged through.

She flits through the border again and again with him. And she doesn't mind so much (in the beginning). She has always tried and she has grown evidently tired from the effort it takes to get through to him. So she gives up, the bags under her eyes pull them to the floor when she inevitably has to tell him.

He thinks she gives up too easily. But he doesn't think twice about inspiring her into giving him another chance (unless he is no longer thinking in his effort to forget). He has always had another chance after the last and he likes to think that he makes good with his chances. Until he inevitably believes he has given more than he has received.

"Gray can go to hell! He never says enough to make me stay."

"But Lucy, the pattern still goes, when he does say something it's enough for you to come running back into his arms."

"Don't even remind me Levy, I hate myself enough for the both of us for it."

"But maybe there's a reason behind all this back and forth with you two."

 _I've lost track of how many times we've had this conversation; the words and phrases have become borrowed and overused. Has anyone ever entertained the idea that maybe the reason behind it all isn't something worth fighting for? Because I will._

"You guys broke up again? How many times does that total to, do you think?"

"22 and a half times."

"Weird to know you keep - wait, how do you half-break up with someone?"

"When half of the words are out of your mouth but she kisses you quiet."

"Kinky."

"I don't doubt that you pull the same trick yourself, Erza"

"It's fucking ingenious and you know that! But that's besides the point. The important question is, are you ready for Breakup #23?"

 _I've always been ready, but maybe I shouldn't be. I find that I'm already steeling myself for the break up while the relationship is still happening. I don't think anyone in their right mind has ever had to think about the consequences of a break up that hasn't happened yet. But does that make me such a bad person if I do? I guess I'll just settle for batshit crazy then._

...

The fates and cosmos follow a simple motto, always bring together people who don't want anything to do with each other, just to be a dick.

This time, she rolls her eyes at herself. No matter how much insecticide she has on hand, the butterflies in her stomach have reeked havoc and have probably grown immune and ignorant to her resistance. She thinks it has something to do with those piercing eyes and the fact that he's usually accidentally shirtless in majority of these re-encounters (she believes the latter most of all).

This time, he doesn't smirk at her. He thinks they've gone through this enough times that the corners of his mouth have lost the sense of purpose of the movement. It only ever annoyed her - and she was already rolling her eyes without him doing anything but be there. He supposes that the only way to break the loving, hurting, break up and make up cycle is for someone to move physically enough away (all the way to the dark side of the moon).

"Don't you ever get tired of this?"

"Stole the question right out of my mouth. Anything else you want to steal?" He puckers his lips and squints his eyes in what he thinks is a cute joking manner. She thinks it's condescending as hell, but she bangs her head in despair because she knows she can't hate him for it.

"Come on, Lucy indulge! If it makes you feel any better, think of this - of us - as merely a leaf in the stream of fate, we go where it wills us to go." She scoffs at him, her defensive perfect arms cross over her chest.

"More like a helpless slave to this stream of fate." She mocks her, he won't deny how emasculating it is. But he makes himself feel instantly better by thinking about how sexy dry humor is when she does it (and the rest is subject to forgive and forget).

"You were never the type to disobey her master, I don't see why that has to change anytime soon." The sheer arrogance he possesses about knowing her has never ceased to appall her. But why the fuck is she puffing up her chest and coming impossibly close to his face? She forces herself to believe it is only for anger and to defend womankind.

"It is precisely because of that way of thinking why no woman in their right mind ever dares to love you." Her brown eyes remain warm and soft as they glare daggers straight into his chest. The insult was meant to hurt but all it did was give him enough courage for the next stupid thing he does with his lips.

In a way she saw the kiss coming. In another way, she was subconsciously asking for it. At first, her lips are rigid while her mind goes off on a tirade about the dangers of circling around this fool. But as his lips (soft and kneading) gently pry through hers, she resigns. After all, she was never one to be left behind in these sort of situations.

He smiles into the kiss when she starts leaning in and grabbing at fistfuls of his hair. He knows that she hates herself a little for this, but he'll surely drown the little hate she has in kisses of all kinds. His arms wrap around her tiny waist, because they only ever felt home and purpose in holding her as close as close can get. The kiss winds down and they pull up for air but his arms stay put and hers find their rightful position around his neck. He leans his forehead on hers, willing all the guilt, hope and love escape him without the need of words. They both had their fair share of failures with those things.

They take a long pause, drinking in what they were trying to empty out in the first place. He opens his eyes first, he always likes to admire her in times like this, eyes closed and hair glinting against the light. He supposes it's his way of assuring that this isn't a dream, that at the end of the line, she needs him too.

Because for them, it never came down to what they thought they deserved but always to what they knew they needed all along. For them, the answer always lied - wrapped and sealed - within the other.

"Then you must be just as crazy as I am." It was a delayed response, he knows. From the look on her face, she forgets the context (and to an extent, having said anything at all). He instantly decides, when her scrunched up face of confusion slowly transitions into amused exasperation, that he'll always act the fool for her when she's tucked this safely in his arms.

"Shut up." She says with a shake of her head and a teasing smile. She goes to kiss him to punctuate her point.

They are always afforded a time to come to the same realization in this kind of kiss. They are not fools or helpless slaves to some Master Fate. They know there are some things that last longer than them together. Surely all the rings before voicemail picks up the call, the 'leave a message' message and the beep itself last longer than all their tries at being together. But if they know anything about the fourth dimension, it's this -

nothing that lasts ever matter and what matters most never lasts long enough.


	3. Sting: Sing Hymns

**SING HYMNS TO MY AMNESIA**

* * *

 _"I don't like to mince my words. I like plain, straightforward and simple and short declarative sentences that go straight for the punchline. I don't like people who puff you up unrealistically. I do like ego boosts from talking red cats though. I don't like people who use parentheses wrong and unnecessarily. But I like gulping down eggs raw (it's a power symbol and absolutely disgusting), but that's just whatever you know? Did I mention that I hate hypocrites? So baby, that's how I do me. How do you want me to do you?"_

She chokes on a straw, her nostrils puke out strawberry milkshake. _It can't get any better than this. No, it just physically can't._

Her laughter is a wave crashing over the diner, lifting furniture and food alike off the ground from sheer force.

He winces a little at the embarrassment he endures, his hands try to bury the pink in his cheeks. _Oh well, it can't get any worse than this, right?_

"Humanity needs to see this. I cannot keep this hidden gem hidden any longer, it's too good."

 _I was wrong, dead wrong. It has gotten far far worse than I anticipated._ He swiftly takes the phone from her grip and deletes the video with surprising efficiency.

 _Dammit, I was going to milk that for at least another hour._ She pouts at him and slyly steals the phone back to confront the loss of pure comedy gold.

Her mind shifts as she is confronted by another kind of loss. It lies in the lock screen image of his phone.

"Why do you still keep this?"

She catches herself stroking the two smiling faces on the screen and visibly stiffens. _Nothing. There is nothing I can think of worth smiling for here._

Her mind struggles to snap pieces into the correct places, the puzzle remains as it is.

He looks over her shoulder at the screen, a small smile (in spite of it all) lifts the corners of his mouth. _For her. There it stays, as close as it is to sadness, it's still something to smile for. But I can't say anything that sappy to her, right brain? Right._

"I don't see a reason not to."

 _Short and sweet, that's the way to go. At least there's some truth to that godawful video dating profile._ He caresses her sides, trying at physical comfort when his words evidently fail (if her intense staredown with the phone is anything to go by).

 _I was being oblivious by thinking he wouldn't keep it. Of course he would, he keeps everything for me._ She intertwines her fingers over his own delicately, still wary he'd pull away from her and snap back to his senses (if his body curled around her is anything to go by, his senses won't be snapping at him anytime soon).

He watches in grief at the physical manifestation of her skepticism, her stubborn doubt. He misses how she would take hold of him firmly, like she was planting him in solid and certain soil. He hears her audibly sigh and feels her sag backwards, into his chest, it gives him some relief.

"You're sweet. And kind. And patient. And all kinds of wonderful. I just - just, I wish I knew how to give that all back to you, everything tenfold."

She means every word she says (and she better), because they the only things that tethers her here. But still, she stares too long and hard at her hands. _What can I do with my hands? Better yet, what have I done with them and how can I make it better? For him._

He smiles a soft and self-deprecating smile and soon he'll whisper sweet nothings in her ear to soothe her. But that is how they remain, both sweet and nothing at all. _I only wish I could grant wishes for her and bring back what she lost that day._

She leans into the touch of his lips by her ear. She feels him inhale with her and it instantly steadies her panic. She squeezes her hands in his, just to make sure this was real. She doesn't like having to make sure of it.

"You just forgot how, no biggy."

 _We are all prone to forget sometimes. Some more than most. But I have faith. The impossible force that put us together in the first place will likely - and in equal impossible fashion - keep us that way._ He doesn't say the sappy one-liners he feels, it'll only ruin the mood. But he should have.

 _It's not something to dismiss. I forgot how to love you, jackass! Say you're angry! Say anything at all that you actually mean!_ She doesn't tell him what she thinks, it'll only open a floodgate they both can't deal with today (out of all days). But she knows she should have, she does.

He feels his heart tug painfully in his chest as she detangles her fingers from his. A cold rush goes through him as she creates distance. He instantly knows he fucked something up. His mouth was never good for anything but kissing (this she said so herself once upon a time). He half expects it to be the 'no biggy'. No, he's sure of it.

"No biggy? No biggy! Yes biggy! Very big biggy as a matter of fact! You're always so quick to sugarcoat your words at my expense. After everything that's happened, lying to me won't do us any good! Say what you mean even if it hurts me, God knows I can take it."

She huffs a little in a futile effort to cool the heat in her head. Her hands clench and unclench by her sides, as the fog is temporarily lifted from her mind and she thinks clearly for a moment. _Okay now I'm just frustrated at myself. How do I go about making it up to him if I yell at him for being considerate of my feelings?_

He can't help but think that she should shout at him more (not because he's a masochist, well mostly). Every small hurt he may feel has been swept under the rug. Looking at her and just being near her make it seem like they don't even exist and in the moment, they really don't. _Seriously, after all this time? Well, she is still herself after all. She still has room to take me into consideration despite everything she's been through._

She shakes her head at the utter futility of it all. She looks up just in time to see the half smirk she both loves and hates on his face (for being both annoyingly smug but sexy). She is coaxed into a laugh and she feels light again. She lets him guide her hand to his lips. She retaliates by stroking the stretched _x_ scar on his brow. She can watch him lean into her touch on repeat (just as much as his ridiculous video dating profile).

"It's been hard and we've both been hurting, but - and I'll be completely honest, just as you prefer - when I see you smile, it gets easier and lighter all of a sudden. And I think it just isn't fair because all you get to see is a smirking bastard with breathtaking bedroom eyes."

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

She shoves his shoulder but her lips can't help but turn up.

They laugh together and it sounds like a harmony. They instinctively move closer to each other and lean into their laughter, making it a secret entirely their own.

Laughter - it seems - fixes things that have no need for being broken. And just like that, their world rights itself again.

But the phone vibrates and their world trips over itself. So close.

The spell laughter has cast is broken by the sounds of an alarm. _It's time._

They know what lies ahead. They approach it everyday, but that doesn't make saying goodbye any easier. They slowly rise from their stools, a bit believing that moving slowly will convince time to stretch itself.

He brings his arm under her knees and the other carries her shoulders. He cradles her to his chest and walks the rest of the way out of the diner and across the street to the hospital.

She tries to memorize every dip and curve of his features that she knows she'll soon forget. She tries and tries. But time is running out and her vision smudges everything into vague blotches of color.

He tightens his hold on her frame and approaches ever forward. He has learned not to look down at her this time, he found out this is when it hurt the most (for them both). It's almost like he could see everything they've built together fall through the gaps in her memory just by looking at her.

She lets out a shaky breath and shuts her eyes. She listens to his heartbeat (quick but steady still).

And she lets it sing her lullabies to amnesia.

" _Is it recording?_ I think so. _Okay, good. Phew, is it weird that I'm nervous?_ Extremely. _Shut up, let me concentrate._ You do know it's going to run out of battery soon right? _Shit, really? Okay okay, I've got this. Right? Tell me I've got this._ You've got this, babe. For about five minutes before the camera shuts down. _Fine, fine, fine. I'm starting! Breathe in, breathe out. To my sweet baby girl -_ How do you know it's going to be a girl? _Call it mother's intuition, now stop interrupting! Where was I? Right. Darling, just know never to believe daddy if he ever calls you a boy, he doesn't mean that. And if you are to remember anything, remember this, I love you. You're not even born yet and I love you already, that's how amazing you really are. There's really little else I could tell you, I'm too excited to see you that words seem futile. Just never forget that okay? Alright, Sti- - -_

 _(shots fired)_

\- - - No! Lucy! Lucy! Lucy, wake up!

Lucy! - - -"


	4. Natsu: As I Stand Here and Farewell

**AS I STAND HERE**

* * *

There was a love I meant to say. But as I stand here, looking at the happy dents in your cheeks, onyx eyes glimmering, and world so lit up it puts the sun to shame; the words stick to the walls of my throat, the courage lost in my heart.

There was a kiss I meant to give. But as I stand here, glaring at the two of you - at her - for giving you exactly the kiss I wanted to give; my feet take the appropriate step back, my clenched fists unravel themselves from their desire and my lips remain dry and terribly un-kissed.

There was a life I meant to live. One with you in it. One where you were _it_. But as I stand here, watching your every inhale and exhale, your every excited heartbeat as she gets closer and closer (her white hair glistening almost impossibly all the while), my eyes drop. My breath stops as my heart finally realizes that you didn't need me to survive, that was only me. From the very start, I was the only one who actually needed you to function.

There was quite a lot of things I meant to do but have never done, and I live with that regret hanging over my head now, deservingly so. I'll always wonder what if.

What if I said it when I knew you would say it back.

What if I kissed you the moment I saw you, so the whole friendship and boundaries didn't stick for as long as they did.

What if I lived that life of marriage, kids, grandkids, growing old in each other's arms - the whole fucking shebang (when you were ready to start it even if I wasn't)

And I'll drown in those what if's, in the infinitesimal amount of what could've been. This is what I deserve.

You deserved better. You got better. I didn't.

And here I stand, watching it all, feeling all the if's and alternates that would never have led to this moment. Here and now is when it all assaults me - the good and bad - the kisses and tears both given and gotten. This is where they ended up - in the gaping hole between two train stops (ironic because this is where it all began).

So here lies the rest of us, nothing but shattered, torn and red. Don't worry, I wrapped it up so you (and I both) don't have to look down on it and remember things better left in the mind's gutter.

But here's to us,

to thinking for so long that we were mendable,

To covering up the cracks with paint that chipped too easily away,

To an attempt at love that was scarily sincere -

Too scary to venture further in,

Too sincere to embody without overflowing, without someone getting loved less -

Two words to put together, _hold on_

Two words to break it enough apart, _let go_

...

I feel my eyes prickle.

 _Tears, yes, of course. I'll be catching those myself this time around._

I breathe painfully inwards and give everything my lungs have suffered back to the wind.

 _There's water in them, strange. I didn't know I've been drowning in your air. I suppose it was too sweet for its own good._

I let my eyes fall safely shut as the wind picks up around me, howling in my ears. I chance a peak at harsh reality (as hard as it is to bear, reality is the only thing I have left).

 _I had hoped that blurring train windows and streaks of nondescript colors would ease the blow. As it happens, my mind has made our ending more sinister than it is._

I feel myself hold my breath in anticipation as the trains pass by.

 _I don't know what hurt more to see, you still there on the other side - out of my arm's reach (and her so very tucked in yours instead) - or the very real emptiness of that station platform._

I barely register my knees buckling beneath me, that is, until I feel the eerily comforting chill of the floor tiles.

 _I think I've known all along. The barren wasteland (of a train station platform) you left behind did me in, dug the metaphorical knife right through my literal spine for that sickening final crack._

I pick my hands up from my lap and dig the palms into my closed eyelids, moving in circles and deeper still until the eyes within start seeing colors.

 _The last dregs of color that I'd likely ever see after this day is through._

I open my eyes back up, a white light blinds me momentarily. They do there best to adjust to it. I can make out something vague in the distance -

 _where you were just moments ago, is that still you?_

\- a shadow, a silhouette.

 _This is all I know (all I'll ever let myself know), nothing is as broken as an empty heart. I hope you somehow remember this as I take a step to fill it -_

one last time.

* * *

I NEVER LIKE TO SAY GOODBYE SO I WON'T SAY FIN BUT YEAH THE DRABBLES ARE BASICALLY OVER AT THIS POINT!AUTHOR'S NOTE AHEAD! SHIELD YOUR EYES!

damn, I apologize if that's some anticlimactic angst (slight oxymoron...?) I've written, it's just that particular idea has been sitting in my laptop for so long that I kinda wanted to exercise it out to the universe.

let's do this (i cant' really handle this but-).

'goodbye' has always seemed like such a lie to me because goodbyes are scarcely as good as advertised by its very name. I don't know if farewell is any better but I believe in its message. I do wish that you fare well in every other endeavor you find yourself thrust at by life, whether it's another fic to get lost in or the mundane but vast activities real life has for us to either revel in or forget all else in. And wow just look at me ramble right?

i'll cut to the chase as best as i can.

the last one liners of each fic is my little scattered farewell to you, reader, the remaining dregs of deadbeatdragon and to the characters of Fairy Tail themselves that I feel I could never do justice by with how many words and sentences I can string together. and for my last words as deadbeatdragon, I choose them to be this:

onwards! chin up! there are things that are waiting for you to shake them up! go on and ruin everything by saying it out loud! and finally,

!chattanooga hooch hooch!


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